


Captains of the Guard

by Mistressaq



Series: Small Projects [8]
Category: Canada's Drag Race RPF, RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Elements, Fictional Religion & Theology, Love Conquers All, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: They had thought, after all this time, now that the pair were at the top of their field, when they held maximum power, there would be no more need to hide their affection for one another. It had always been this way, in fact their superiors and peers held the belief that “Lone” and “Ty”were related, that they were siblings if not in blood than in spirit. It wasn’t thought of-- never even considered -- that their affection for each other would be like it truly was. It simply wasn’t done.-or-In a world where love between members of the royal guard is forbidden, Tynomi and Ilona have been caught in a decades long affair.
Relationships: Ilona Verley/Tynomi Banks
Series: Small Projects [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484927
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Captains of the Guard

**Author's Note:**

> this is a ficlet based around Team Paper's looks in the ball challenge. I thought of Ilona and Tynomi as guards who were forced to fight by a wicked princess, and it kinda went from there. Ilona and Jimbo are nonbinary in this fic and use they/them pronouns (or they SHOULD, barring any error on my part)  
> big thanks to Mac for giving this a once-over and catching missing commas/quotation marks and being generous with their excitement

Ilona squeezed Tynomi’s hand as they made their way to the throne room together. Seated upon the gilded chair, in the seat of power, was Bo. Full name Jimbo, the Captains of the Guard had been friends with their sovereign-to-be from their teens. Ilona had taught the princette proper form in dance, archery, exercise, and of course, swordplay. Tynomi had schooled Bo on strategy, diplomacy, and crucial first aid. The two had risen through the ranks together and gained promotions for their good work educating the future monarch. 

They had thought, after all this time, now that the pair were at the top of their field, now they held maximum power, there would be no more need to hide their affection for one another. It had always been this way, in fact, their superiors and peers held the belief that “Lone” and “Ty” were related, that they were siblings if not in blood than in spirit. It wasn’t thought of-- never even considered -- that their affection for each other would be like it truly was. It simply wasn’t done.

Of course, relations among the guard were not unheard of, but these were frenzied, desperate flings, after which would follow an amount of shame sufficient enough to stop them from developing any kind of attachment that would cause the security of the palace to be compromised. Lust was short sighted and easily sated. Love requires self sacrifice. And the only person or persons who should have the guards sacrifice for them are the royal family. To protect the monarchy was the top priority. 

Tynomi tried to hide the way her legs trembled, did her best to draw from the strength of her partner, like she had done so many times before. Still, the pair wore grave expressions when they kneeled before the throne. “You wanted to see us, your highness?” Ilona’s voice wavered despite her greatest efforts.

The Princette looked down upon them with a cold gaze. Their tutors, their advisors, the two people on this earth who Jimbo had trusted with their life. And to think, all this time, these two had been carrying out an affair of unspeakable magnitude, managing to fool everyone in the kingdom, including the crown princette themself. Jimbo wrapped their fingers around the golden ball at the end of the royal armrest. “Come now, friends,” Jimbo sneered. “You are two of the most intelligent minds in the palace.”

The pair exchanged a wary glance.

The princette continued in a vaguely mocking tone. “Surely one of you can explain to me… how you managed to pull it off for _so many_ years?” Jimbo’s laugh was devoid of good humor. “I mean, come on!” They threw up their hands. “You’re co-captains of the guard for spirit’s sake!”

Ilona and Tynomi sank into deeper, cowering bows. They spread their knees and pressed their foreheads to their hands, flat on the floor. It was well enough, as neither still had the ability to stand. Together they had faced down cursed beasts, whole armies, plagues of death and madness, but to confess their love for each other before the cruel princette, they had not the strength. 

“Do you _really_ have _nothing_ to say for yourselves?” 

The captains of the guard shook in unison like trees in a rainstorm. 

Jimbo _tsk_ ed. They took in breath as if to speak again, but was cut off.

“Kill us.” 

The princette looked down their long nose to see Ilona, still visibly shaking, but carried by some last minute courage to interrupt. Their partner, Tynomi, looked on from the side, still groveling. 

Ilona spoke again. “Try us if you want. Tell the people we were traitors, disparage our legacy, add us to the names of wicked spirits. But…” they looked down at Tynomi. “Burn us as one.”

They looked up at their sovereign and sank back down to grovel. “Let two executioners do their work at the same moment. Place us in the same shroud. Arrange one pyre and after, mix our ashes together so one of us is indistinguishable from the other.” Ilona swallowed terror and reached for Tynomi’s hand once more. They felt a firm squeeze from her, and turned their head to see Tynomi raising her face toward the thing she most feared. 

Tynomi’s usually deep voice wobbled with tears and fear, but she spoke anyway. “We ask not for mercy in this life,” she said. “Only that we never be separated, or forced to watch each other perish. You have to understand,” she pleaded. “Separation to us would be a worse fate than death.”

The Princette contemplated. For many torturous minutes, silence suffocated the throne room. At last, Jimbo lifted the royal staff and banged it on the floor, signaling their mind was made up. The captains of the guard clutched each other. 

It was not a good sentence. 

“Because clearly it will be a more efficient punishment than simply condemning you to die by the hand of an executioner,” the princette began.

The couple felt all their combined strength leave them.

“Instead,” Jimbo continued. “I want you each to take up your swords and fight to the death. Oh!” They interrupted themself. “And no dying intentionally, if you do that, we’ll bury your unburnt bodies on opposite sides of the kingdom.”

Three things happened at once: Tynomi and Ilona fell to the floor in each other’s arms; the Crown Princette raised the staff to bang it against the floor for a final time; and the wall fresco behind the throne warped like a ripple on water, eliciting a bone-vibrating groan from the stone itself. The staff fell from Jimbo’s hand. Tynomi let out a scream. A woman stepped out of the painting on the wall. 

From behind the throne, a withered voice cried out: “You will do no such thing!”

Jimbo froze, their eyes wide, their hair standing suddenly on end. Weakly, they rasped, “Granny?”

The woman walked in confident strides that made clear footfalls which echoed off the walls. Her grey hair was cropped to her chin and chains of gold hung from her neck and waist. A large signet ring bounced light from the chandelier into Jimbo’s eyes. The Crown Princette flinched backwards, suddenly able to move once again. Jimbo’s grandmother, former Lioness Queen, whose reign presided over a golden age of expansion and happiness, had come back to the earthly plane specifically to intercede on Heaven’s behalf, and give her grandchild a royal talking-to.

Before that, however, the Lioness Queen spoke. her voice was physical and ethereal, the very word of the Divine when she said “Ilona of Verley and Tynomi from the grand river Banks. Captains of the guard and distinguished masters of your craft. Arise.”

As if none of the past hour had occurred, the two found their strength restored. They were no longer afraid but instead were filled with divine purpose. They witnessed the woman as she joined their hands together, her flesh as solid and warm as any other person. She laid hands on each's shoulder and said a blessing over them. “This union has been predestined and organized by The Divine,” she said. “And let my descendant take heed of this warning: any who may attempt to tear apart what the Divine has brought together shall be swallowed by the earth and sentenced to roam this infernal plane for ten thousand years, until only a whisper of the spirit is left to be carried into The Beyond. You, however, will be greatly blessed both in this life and thereafter.” 

The Lioness Queen stepped back from the guard captains and turned once more to her grandchild. “Hear this: a royal bloodline does not exempt you from the judgement of Heaven.” She walked back toward the fresco she had stepped out of mere minutes ago. An empty wall was left where her portrait had come to life. She took one last look back into the room. “Now. All of you. Go forth and do what is right.”

With that, the fresco once again was complete.

—

“And later on, when that ruler got deposed, it was the captains of the guard that the people raised to power,” explained Priyanka. 

By her side, the Crown Princess’ younger sister sucked on a hard candy. “Can I ask a maybe dumb question?”

“There are no dumb questions, Key, but go for it.”

Princess Kiara’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Did any of that happen?”

Priyanka shrugged. “It could be based on real events, it could be exaggerated, it could even be completely made up! But that doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Okay that makes zero sense,” complained Kiara’s friend Lemon. “If it’s made up then it didn’t happen so it _can’t_ be true.”

Priyanka pursed her lips and nodded. “I guess what I mean is: whether it happened or not isn’t what _matters_ _._ Because the message the story is telling us, the lesson it’s trying to teach, is what’s important. And that lesson teaches the truth. That we are stronger together than alone, and that Heaven looks happily on those who protect each other and work together.” She paused on their walk. “Does that make sense?”

Kiara looked to Lemon, who shrugged. “I guess so. So what are we supposed to do at this temple again?”

“A lot of what you’re used to.” Priyanka continued their trek up the path to the temple of Unity. It resembled a two-story gazebo or greenhouse. There was not a second floor to walk on, but the top of the open building reached twice as high as was usual for the time period. "Leave offerings, sit in meditation, pray. But Unity is about people coming together.” Priyanka reached for her sister’s hand, sticky from holding sweets in the summer heat. “While we go in and when we come out, we hold hands, like the guard captains did when they approached the throne room.”

Lemon took Kiara’s free hand. The two girls shared a look. Priyanka’s heart clenched. They had yet to cross the threshold and she was already praying that the engagement between the two children would work out. Though Priyanka was the one slated to become queen soon, her baby sister was still important for the security of their dynasty. Lemon’s country shared a border with a powerful enemy, and her family was seeking an alliance to help safeguard their lands. Priyanka’s country was known for a large and well trained military. This alliance could be a crucial step in protecting her _own_ kingdom from invasion. 

Inside the temple, Priyanka lit her candle and looked up at the image of The Blessed Union. _May the union between these two children blossom with the blessing of the ancestors and the spirits of the earth and sky. May their bond be strong as they grow in wisdom and dignity._

The girls watched Priyanka for what they were supposed to be doing and for how long. To some extent, she really liked that the girls looked up to her. However, it also necessitated that Priyanka put more pressure on herself to be a good example for them. To make sure she was doing all the right things, that she wasn't leading the youths astray.

While on their way back, Lemon poked at Priyanka’s arm. “Hey. What did you pray for?”

“Lem!” Kiara hissed. “Not supposed to ask that!”

Lemon skipped along. “I bet she was begging for _loooOOOove.”_

Priyanka laughed, heat rising to her cheeks anyway. “Sure. Go with that.” She rolled her eyes. 

Lemon bounced further ahead down the path, humming some silly love song.

Kiara wound her (still sticky) hands up her sister’s arm. “I think you’re gonna be good at being queen.”

Priyanka’s heart filled with love for her sister. She pulled her arm around Kiara’s shoulders and tucked Kiara’s head under her cheek. “Only if you’re there with me, Key.”

“That’s what I prayed for,” whispered Kiara. “I know I’m not supposed to say. But I want you to know.” Her eyes were the deep brown of freshly watered soil. “I want us to be like this.” She knitted her and Priyanka’s fingers together, even though her hands were a third of the size of her sister’s. She looked up at Priyanka. “Always.”

Their carriages were in sight once more. Priyanka turned around so no one could see her wipe away her tears of tenderness. 

**Author's Note:**

> also, i JUST found out we lost Lady Red Couture overnight. That's crushing, such black trans excellence, and an outspoken voice was just lost and that HURTS


End file.
